


Midnight in Paris

by thatluckyrabbit



Category: The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
Genre: AU, AU from the movie, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Strangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 04:24:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatluckyrabbit/pseuds/thatluckyrabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A midnight conversation in an empty, quiet street between two strangers, particularly a captain and a gypsy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight in Paris

**Author's Note:**

> I just watched this movie again, read some fanfics and saw some fanart, and I support Phoebus/Clopin now. This random thing is more so just a conversation between strangers. An AU, really. But since, when I fall in love with a pairing, I immediately write established relationships and such, I decided to go in a different route. But I will write an established relationship fic for these two next, for I have a solid idea now for what to write next. :D 
> 
> This was just an experiment of these two characters and for this fandom in general, so sorry for any mistakes prior. Either way, enjoy. :)

 

Phoebus de Châteaupers had never been good at sneaking around.  
  
He started to accept this fact about himself when the male gypsy he'd been following for a good half an hour had stopped dead in his tracks—the jingle that came with the small bells on the gypsy's boots that adorned his feet and oh-so perfectly matched his colorful, jester-like outfit, coming to a complete halt. It had been the only sound throughout the entire street, for at a time so late at night, most of Paris was already asleep. The silence was what made Phoebus realized he'd been caught in the act.  
  
The gypsy did not even turn in the direction of which his follower was, but his words clearly gave away that he knew very well who was following him. "You know, for a captain, you are not very stealthy."  
  
Phoebus wasn't sure how to respond, let alone if there was even a proper response he could give to the gypsy. He nearly debated turning and running away, to pretend as if it'd been a mistake, a misunderstanding, but he quickly shook the thought out of his head. Running away was beneath him, and there was no reason to even do so now, even when confronted by the very man he'd been following solely out of curiosity. Curiosity, which was his main reason. At least he figured so. But he knew it would sound like an absolutely pathetic reason as to why he just—to put it bluntly—stalked this man; a man, gypsy or not, who'd done nothing wrong.  
  
Then again, he did wonder why anyone would be out so late at night...  
  
Still, Phoebus decided to lie. There was no harm in it, but he wasn't sure how great his deception skills were. "I'm just out patrolling the streets, sir."  
  
The gypsy slowly turned, still wearing the mask over his eyes which Phoebus had always seen him in during the day. The gypsy gawked at him, as though stunned by what he'd been called. Surely it was the most polite name this gypsy had ever been called. "Sir?" He placed a hand on his hip, not making a move toward the captain.  
  
"Is there a problem?"  
  
The man eyed him with heavy suspicion. "Why were you following me?"  
  
Now if there was one thing Phoebus was good at, it was playing nonchalant and innocent. "Who says I was following you?"  
  
The gypsy rolled his eyes. "Your skills of deception are as useless as your ability to sneak around." He stepped closer, eyeing the captain with intent—notable in his eyes even behind the mask covering it. "Why were you following me?" he demanded, tone colder than before. He was clearly putting up a tough  
front in means of defense, quite expecting this guard to arrest him.  
  
Phoebus cleared his throat, unable to form a suitable answer that did not give away his true intentions for why he'd followed him in the first place.   
  
A heavy silence fell upon the two, though the already quiet street was enough, save for the occasional barking of a dog or the chirps of a cricket in the distance. "You are a captain; _the_ captain..." Clopin Trouillefou took notice of Phoebus' armor, eyeing it carefully from where he stood. "...yet you are not very intimidating."  
  
"Being a captain does not mean I have to be intimidating." The others in his regiment might have disagreed, but this was a moral Phoebus believed in wholeheartedly. There was no point in being intimidating when the time did not call for it.  
  
"Well, you fought in the war, right? That's how you got here, and that's how we're here now. Most war heroes—"  
  
"—I'm no hero," Phoebus cut in, rather sharply. Being told that he was a hero constantly grated on his nerves, and he wasn't the least bit sure why. It was an honor to be called a hero, but it was the fact he never felt like one. Not even when he returned home from the war.  
  
"Ah, so the great Judge Frollo has elected you, the _sympathetic_ war hero, to the lead the protection of Paris against us _'vile vermin'_ ," Clopin remarked, striding closer to the Captain of the Guard.  
  
Phoebus decided against going into a long explanation into something almost every Parisian already knew. He ignored the remark altogether. "Look, I'm not here to arrest you if that's what you're thinking. I didn't take this job to arrest innocent people."  
  
"Oh, really?" Clopin crossed his arms over his chest. "Then why did you take this job?"  
  
The captain shrugged. "Pays good money," was Phoebus' immediate response. That was true—it paid more than any major ranking in the army. It made sense, seeing as how Judge Frollo paid much money for his guards—for the supposed protection of Paris.  
  
But there was more to than that: it wasn't completely for the money. "And..." Phoebus added slowly, "...I guess... I thought I could step in if I have to when an injustice is being done." He gave a wry grin. "I am _the_ captain, after all."  
  
Behind his eye mask, Clopin raised an eyebrow in amusement. "And I am a king." He gave a small curtsy as he spoke. He knew he shouldn't have told a stranger this, but he was sure that this captain would not believe him. And he didn't expect him to. Even so, he wouldn't have told just anyone if he didn't find them trustworthy and something about this guard, this Captain of the Guard, showed he was trusting and humble. Sympathetic, even. The man before him, once a soldier, had principle and integrity. That much Clopin could tell.  
  
Phoebus gave a disbelieving laugh. "A king who dresses like a court jester?"  
  
"It makes a living. Besides..." Now it was Clopin's turn to give a wry grin. "...not every king has to dress in fine, royal robes."  
  
"You're a strange man."  
  
"How so?"  
  
Again, that was where Phoebus wasn't sure how to answer. Well, he wasn't sure how to think up an answer, but words were already slipping out of his mouth before he could stop himself, "You’re not like any other..." He refrained from using the word _'gypsy'_ to refer to the man. "...man I've seen before." That was the best way he could describe it without thinking. It was the only way to describe it that came to mind. And really... he wasn't sure if there was any other way to explain it.  
  
Clopin eyed the captain with curiosity; a small, sly smile appeared on his face, one that was as prominent as the mask on his face. "You're a strange man yourself, Phoebus de Châteaupers.” Satisfied by the look of awe on Phoebus’ face, Clopin turned and began saunter away, disappearing down the darkened street in a matter of seconds.  
  
Phoebus was left standing in the empty street alone, staring ahead in the direction the mysterious gyspy had left.  He wondered how the man knew his name, and why… _why..._

_...Why didn’t I ask for his name?_

Maybe he’d find out next time, and the only thing Phoebus could only wonder about now is if there would ever be a next time.


End file.
